


Like pages from an open book

by orphan_account



Series: Insatiable [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Begging, Caning, Claude is having a grand old time here trust me, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Human Furniture, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Spanking, Submissive Male, Vaginal Sex, byleth too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Claude has always prided himself in knowing how to read people, but his wife Byleth is seemingly always a step ahead of him.





	Like pages from an open book

Not for the first time that night, Claude managed to anger a minor noble.

After the decisive victory at the capital city of Derdriu, the joined forces of Almyra and Fódlan had celebrated with a great feast in the monastery. Claude and Byleth had taken that moment to unify their two nations by announcing their marriage. While they had technically been married for years now, this was the first time they’d be announcing it officially.

What followed afterwards was naturally a whole slew of nobles congregating to “kiss our asses,” as Claude put it. He had been able to placate most of them, mostly those from the Alliance since he was already familiar with them, and his silver tongue had charmed those he hadn't met before. But a man is only so patient when he has a bunch of rich, snobby strangers approach him during his impromptu wedding.

Claude had been speaking with some man named Alfred, he thinks that’s his name anyway — he can’t be bothered to remember what noble house the man is from. He doesn’t even remember starting a conversation with the man and yet here he is talking about some unfound worry that the people of Fódlan would corrupt their children with their debased culture. Claude can tell from his posture and hand movements that this man thinks very highly of himself. Alfred holds himself like a peacock — loud and bright, forcing himself to be the centre of attention. He holds his head tilted upwards, looking down at those he speaks to through his nose. A literal, and metaphorical, flagging that he views himself higher than the rest. A haughty, arrogant bastard that he is all too familiar with.

At this point, loathe as he is to admit it, Claude would much rather have Lorenz as his speaking partner. He takes a look around the room to find the man chatting up a female knight. Claude snorts, it would seem they both have tastes in strong women.

The man he’s speaking to seems to take the snort personally and begins mouthing on about his disappointment that the King of Almyra had the manners of a stable boy. When Alfred-what’s-his-name then implied that Claude’s mixed heritage was to blame for his unfathomable rudeness he decided he had enough of listening to this man.

“With all due respect, sir, I frankly have better things to do tonight. Like speaking with my lovely Fódlan wife and having lovely Fódlan children with her. Have I mentioned how much I love Fódlan? Cause boy, do I ever!” He waves a hand before he leaves the man to sputter his overly expensive and poor tasting drink.

Claude makes a beeline to Byleth where she’s standing off to the side speaking with Lysithea.

“Hey Lysithea, mind if I steal back my wifey from you?”

Lysithea smiled, “Of course, my lord. I would never deign to try to take her from you. I was just leaving, have a good evening, my lieges.”

As she left, Byleth turned to face her husband. Her expression was calm and collected. She held onto a cane.

“I see you’ve managed to anger another noble. What happened to your powers of coercion? Your silver tongue?”

Claude shrugs his shoulders in an over exaggerated manner, “Oh please, my powers are reserved for people who matter. Like _you._” He waggles his eyebrows and gives her a wink. He steals a glance at her cane. “And where’d you get that? Nicked it off a noble? What will the people say knowing that their queen is a kleptomaniac, huh?”

Byleth doesn’t miss a beat as she changes the subject, “You said Lady Daphne should stick her staff, ah, what did you say? ‘Where the sun doesn’t shine’?”

“No I didn’t! Well, maybe I implied it, but I’m much more elegant with my words than that. Besides, she said all Almyrans were dirty. Said it shows on our _skin_.” Claude made a scowl, his brows knitted in disgust.

Byleth’s expression softened as she put a hand to his cheek. “And I’ll make sure she knows such comments are unacceptable and not tolerated. And what did Lord Alfred say? I noticed you made him upset.”

Claude snorted for the second time during the evening. Maybe he does have the manners of a stable boy.

“He’s the opposite. Hates the Fódlans. Minor nobles are exhausting, By.”

Byleth took her hand from Claude’s cheek. He took this moment to put on his usual charming smile and suggestively sway his hips ever so slightly.

“Byleth. Light of my life, my sweetpea, my little wyvern,” He makes a vague gesture and suddenly looks deep in thought, “...my _Deer_.”

That got a smile out of Byleth and Claude mentally gives himself a high-five. He put his hands on her hips and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “How about we ditch this farce and consummate our marriage, hmm?”

Byleth made a noncommittal noise, “We’ve consummated our marriage an awful many times already. I’m not sure there’s a need to continue doing so again.”

“But Teeeeeeach,” he whined. He had stopped calling her “Teach” after they married. Instead opting to use other sugary petnames like “wifey” when in public. Teach instead became something he called her when they were intimate, behind closed doors, usually with her on top of him…

Byleth acquiesces, probably wanting to go somewhere private as much as he wants but she just hides it well, and takes his hand and leads him out of the main hall to an adjoining stairway just off to the side. Claude takes a quick glance around the room to see if anyone is catching their King and Queen escaping from their own wedding. He spots Sylvain watching them. The red head makes a circle with his index finger and thumb, and uses the index finger from his opposite hand to penetrate the circle, grinning the whole time. Claude gives him a thumbs up as he’s pulled away.

Byleth leads him straight to the room on top of the monastery. They’re suddenly alone now, the quietness being a stark contrast from the noise in the main hall. Claude can hear his own heart reverberating in his ears from excitement. Byleth lets go of him as she takes a seat on a couch in the middle of the room. There’s a tea set on a table next to the couch — wait, where’d she get time to brew some tea? As he’s left to ruminate that thought, the aroma that hits his nose is distinctly familiar. A look at the tableside confirms his suspicions as he sees the tea’s packaging. She’s drinking an herbal blend that prevents pregnancy during intercourse, it’s a drink both he and Byleth imbibe quite frequently as it works on both sexes. So _that’s_ what she was talking about with Lysithea. Sneaky. Claude wrings his hands together, both in nervousness and excitement for what’s to come.

She gives him a look, and to anyone else the expression on her face would look like her usual deadpan one, but Claude has been with her long enough to know her subtle cues and hints. He was always the one to read people and the atmosphere; growing up in the Alliance meant knowing what people wanted and knowing which saccharine words to use to get them on your side. He knew what to look for in terms of body language and how to respond to people’s movements to achieve the most favourable outcome for him. He was always mindful of his own posture, always careful to keep it open and inviting with his arms to the side and to learn toward to the person he was speaking to with frequent eye-contact. And whenever he was feeling just a bit full of himself, he’d muse that his good looks were also partly responsible in successfully manipulating people — after all, his smile had quite the disarming, and welcome, effect. Whenever someone would bashfully tuck their hair behind their ears and flutter their eyes, he knew he had them hook, line, and sinker.

There was no one he couldn’t read like an open book.

That is, until he met Byleth. Truthfully, when he had first met her she had infuriated him. No matter what he did or how he looked at her he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her eyes were devoid of emotion and nothing about her posture told him anything. She would just stand there, with a blank face. She didn’t even look bored — which probably annoyed him the most! Usually whenever someone had a stony expression it was because they were bored out of their minds! Or at least just a bit angry! Just… _something_. And so when she had chosen the Golden Deer he was ecstatic; he was going to get multiple chances to study her! To really pick at her brain and see what made her tick! His fellow Deer had called his endeavours “_Operation Defrosting the Ice Queen_” and would join him in his attempts to get some sort of emotional response out of their later beloved Professor. Admittedly much of their attempts boiled down to what Sylvain tactfully called it: “students doing stupid shit to piss off their Professor.”

He remembers one time he was talking with her in the gardens, he had given her a wink here and a smile there before picking a flower — a water lily that was a light shade of purple — and putting it in her hair. In hindsight that flower probably wasn’t the best choice because he had picked it from the water and so it had wetted her hair, but the small smile she had given him had nearly left him breathless.

He knew then he was, for lack of a better word, completely fucked. Everything he did from there on out was to see that smile again. He piled on the compliments and pick-up lines, casually, of course. He was always casual. Insisted to himself that he was always distant enough in his interactions with her. She had given that smile again when he had taken her to dance during the Garreg Mach Ball and he felt as if he had been blessed by Rhea herself. Despite this, he vehemently denied that he was catching _feelings_ for his young Professor and insisted he simply admired her greatly, but was teased mercilessly by his fellow Deer in private nonetheless.

“Puppy love,” said Leonie; “Absolutely hopeless” quipped Lysithea; “A tragedy waiting to happen,” snipped Petra. Hilda had given him some sappy romance novel that was growing in popularity amongst the noble women in an attempt to give him ‘tips’ on how to woo women while Ignatz mentioned that he should try to embrace his more artistic side to seem more ‘sensitive’ because apparently women liked that in a man. He wasn’t even safe from the other Houses as when he would occasionally pass by Edelgard or Dimitri they would give him what he could only call a shit-eating grin. He didn’t even know his more strait-laced peers were even capable of being smug. But he had taken his classmate’s teasing in stride and deflected them with his usual smile and joking personality.

It was only when he noticed Byleth’s more… bold advances towards him that he realized something. Sometimes when he had scored well in a mock battle she would rub his shoulder; only to graze the back of his neck, her fingers lightly scraping his nape. Other times, she would intentionally skim her fingers over his when she handed him something. Another time, when he was eating with Raphael, Hilda and Byleth, he had crumbs on the corner of his mouth. Byleth had firmly taken hold of his chin with her with her hand, securing his lower jaw with her thumb and index finger tightly. He sat rock still, enraptured and struck hot as she gently, but forcefully, steered his head to face her. His classmates suddenly became invisible to him. She didn’t look mad, but rather… almost a bit smug. Her smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, pleasure radiating off of her, almost tangible. She looked like he had given her the most perfect opportunity on a golden platter. She wiped the crumbs off, but not before brushing her thumb against the length of his bottom lip and telling him that it was unbecoming of the future head of the Leicester Alliance to be a messy eater. She had left him to endure the snickering of his classmates soon after. He couldn't make a convincing enough argument on why his face was such a bright red, not even to himself.

Once, when it was just the two of them in the back of the library in the late hours of the evening when she was tutoring him on battlefield tactics he was seated at a table with Byleth standing behind him. She had placed her hands on either side of the table, effectively caging him in with her arms — barring any route of escape (not that he had wanted to escape). Her presence was a heavy shadow that rooted him to the spot and suddenly his body wasn’t his own, because he had become a statue then. Her heat against his nape peppered him with goosebumps. Her breath raked against his ear as she called him a _good boy_ when he got a question right. It felt like his mind short-circuited and an unbearable heat built up in his stomach. He had hoped his darker skin had hidden his furious blushing.

That night when he retired to his bedchambers he fisted his cock fast and firm until he came so hard he saw stars. He had imagined her riding him as he clawed at the bed sheets and begged her to let him to cum. She called him a _good boy_ when she gave him her permission. In the library she had whispered those words to him, in his imagination she had growled it out and choked him with her strong hands. The next morning as he was bathing, he pinched his nose and begrudgingly admitted to himself that, yes, he held more feelings towards his Professor than he at first acknowledged.

It was then he realized something, alright. He tried so hard to read her, but he couldn’t get a single page out of her book. She wasn’t the open book, _he_ was. She had read him so, so easily. He was wrapped around her finger and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Years later he has become accustomed to her body language, can actually read her properly and gauge what she wants. She's become much more expressive since joining the Golden Deer and Claude had begrudgingly admitted that wasn't a lone feat. The rest of his House members had just as much as an impact of getting Byleth out of her shell as he did.

Once, she had called them her family. Claude had to hold back his tears of happiness. But when Byleth proposed to him directly after he couldn’t stop the flood gates from opening.

Nowadays, while she’s far from an open book, he can at least take pride in the fact that he knows precisely how to make her give him that smile he treasures so much.

_Perks of years of friendship and marriage_, he mused.

Claude is taken out of his reminiscing when he hears Byleth lightly tap her foot on the carpet. Now, he can see a gleam in her eyes and the corner of her lips very slightly lifted giving him that ghost of a smile. Anyone would have missed it, and he would have too if he wasn’t actively searching for it. He knows that look. It’s a look that’s egging him on to do something. It’s part of a game they play, one of several; he pines for her attention and she gives it and then waits for him to make the next move. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks at her again. She takes a sip from her tea. He knows what to do then.

He casually strolls in front of her and while keeping eye contact he gets on his hands and knees and stays still. She perked an eyebrow upwards but follows along by placing her feet on his back as if he was a footstool. It’s been a while since they’ve done something like this. Last time Claude was completely naked, and was a table for Byleth’s food. She had fried rice and tea and it was _hot_. Literally hot. The heat stung so deliciously against his skin and when she had removed the dishes they left angry red circles on his back. She had poured her piping hot tea onto his back which made him give out a shrill cry. She hadn't been merciful then, wasn't in the mood to allow him a moment of respite. He had stood where he was, on his hands and knees and exactly in his place. Before her feet. Quiet. An object for her to use as she wished, even if that was to watch him squirm and panting like a bitch in heat after she pours her tea on his body. An owner can do what she wants with her property, and that also meant the dreaded pinching of his nipples with metal clamps that had a weight hanging off the chain between them. The pain on his back made the ache on his nipples that much more sharper with the pressure becoming exquisitely torturous with every breath he took. Byleth only needed to caress his cock once before he came.

Presently, thinking of their past games was starting to make his pants unbearably tight. While he was regretting his decision to not disrobe, Byleth spoke.

“You were awfully rude to some of our dignitaries today.” She says that as if they haven’t already talked about the issue.

He snorted, “Calling them dignitaries implies they’re important.”

“As king and queen we have to keep up with appearances. How do you expect to truly unite Fódlan and Almyra if you intentionally rile up some random nobles you happen to dislike?”

He scoffs, readjusting his weight on his forearms “They’re just trying to kiss up to us to gain financial immunity and political power. Besides, they’re minor nobles. A speck of dust, if you will. They have no power. To truly stop the prejudices between our people we should start with the commoners — which we’ve already had! After we fought together against the remnants of the Imperial Army at Derdriu you could already see the ripples of change. I know prejudices don’t go away overnight, but our armies standing tall and proud _together_ has already changed the minds of many. Our soldiers getting along fine with one another is proof of that!” A proud speech for someone who had his wife’s feet on his back.

Byleth hummed and took another sip of tea. “Talkative for a footstool. I do agree with everything you say. However…” When she emphasized and drew out a word like that, Claude knew _exactly_ what was going to happen. He struggled to keep his position still in his giddiness. Byleth continues to speak above him. “Bad behaviour should be punished, wouldn’t you agree? You really ought to find other ways to grab my attention you know.”

“Me? Scheming to get your attention? I would never!” He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. When he feels the weight of her feet slip from his back and hears her boots touch the floor, he shuts his eyes.

The smack of the cane against his thigh is quick and firm. It’s a light slap, but it still stings and Claude feels his cock getting harder from the fresh rush of pain. He clenches his fists in anticipation of another hit that doesn’t come and he looks up to her. She’s looking back at him with a softened expression and looks ready to drop her cane.

He knows what she’s doing. She’s giving him time to opt out. Giving him the option to say that magical word where everything will stop. He doesn’t want to stop so he grins.

“What’s the matter, Teach? You’re looking awfully stiff there. How ‘bout I help you loosen up a bit, huh?” He’s a little breathless when he speaks now. He gives her the trademarked von Riegen wink.

Her expression becomes harder as she goes back into her previous role. She looks at him like he’s a useless toy, like he’s nothing but a boring chore, and he loves it. Claude gasps as the blows come hard and fast against his ass and he can’t help but spread his legs wider at the patter of pain. The heat pooling around his stomach was starting to become unbearable, his body begging for some type of relief, be it by actually cumming or taking some of his damn clothes off.

_Motherfucker… why does royal clothing have so many layers…!_

As Byleth continues her merciless assault Claude can think of nothing but Byleth ripping his clothing to shreds, the inevitable complaining of his tailors be damned, and taking him then and there with her fingers gagging his mouth. When the sharp and stinging hits cease, Claude can’t help but slump a little. He jolts slightly when he feels Byleth’s feet on his back again. He can hear her drinking her tea and he wonders how much she has left. He whines.

He arches his back, needy and shameful. His ass feels like it’s on fire, almost like his back when Byleth had poured tea on him the last time they did something like this.

“T-Teach…”

She snickers. “You’re right. I am feeling rather stiff. Sitting around doing paperwork and talking to stuffy politicians does a body no good. I think you can help me loosen up.”

And oh, he likes where this is going. He feels her feet slip off his back again and watches her with glazed eyes as she shimmies out of her pants. Claude sits in front of her, ignoring the stinging pain on his backside, with a wide smile on his face as he waited patiently for his Queen to allow him the luxury of seeing her cunt. She spreads her legs and gives him a smile that can only be described as sadistic.

“You know what to do, my little deer.”

It’s at this point where Claude realizes he’s drooling a little. He wastes no time making his way to what he humbly considers his greatest treasure. She’s quite wet already, if the immediate taste of her juices is anything to go by. She grabs onto his hair and smothers him in the best way possible. He licks, and licks, and licks before sucking onto her clit. He attempts to bury his head inside, tasting as much as humanly possible, completely ravenous and desperate to please Byleth. She's got his hair in a secure, tight hold, and he knows he's getting face-fucked as she grinds on him.

It doesn’t take long before he hears some soft panting from Byleth — he knows what she likes. Byleth has never been a particularly vocal person in bed, stoic as she is, but once again Claude has learned her clues and signals. A subtle intake of breath, the slight and almost missable hitches in her breath and the grip of her hand in his hair increasing just a smidge tells him she’s almost finished.

She cums, hard, and Claude happily laps up her fluids. It only when she lets go of his hair does he move his face away from her cunt, his chin covered in her slick. He licks his lips and makes an appreciative sound like he ate a particularly sweet dessert.

When he looks up he sees her giving him a genuine and soft smile and Claude feels like the clouds have parted and goddess herself had descended upon him.

_The goddess is real and her name is Teach._

Byleth gently moves some hair out of Claude’s face, a rare moment of fragility and tenderness in these games of theirs. She’s usually only this gentle with him after they’re done with their sexcapades. Then, just as quickly, she steeled her expression. She stands up and lifts her leg to put her foot on his shoulder and harshly shoves him onto the ground. His ass and the back of his thighs hitting the floor reignites the pain he endured from the cane, and he hisses. Byleth summons the Sword of the Creator and points it beneath his chin.

“That’s a little blasphemous, don’t you think, Teach?” He says in mock offense. He’s panting heavily now, he desperately wants her to touch his cock so he lifts his hips up and whines.

She does nothing but stare at him.

“C-come on, Teach. Cut a guy some slack here…”

He doesn’t even see it happen, and before he can register her movements his pants are in tatters. He blinks. And then he splutters, looking down on himself, his pants a shredded canvas against him and thoroughly useless.

Well, looks like he’ll have to face the complaints of his tailors afterall.

Byleth quickly strips herself of the rest of her clothing and Claude takes a moment to appreciate her muscles — the soft tone of her abs, the curving mound of her bicep. She may be a queen now, but she’s a warrior first. She hasn’t stopped with her sword training, and Claude remembers a time when they had sparred with each other and Byleth had soundly defeated him. She held him in a choke hold after she knocked him on his stomach and fingered his asshole until he cried. When they were finished and stood, he was wobbly like a newborn calf. He fervently denied losing on purpose, but he had confided to her the night prior about how much he wanted to be roughly manhandled. The thought of the event makes his cock hurt even more, it’s leaking a fair amount of precum now.

Byleth tuts. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t be if _someone_ would h-hurry the fuck u-up.”

She tilts her head at him and smirks. She lowers herself so that her cunt is directly above his cock. He bites back a pathetic whine, her heat so tantalizingly close and himself at a near painful hardness.

“How do good boys ask for something they want, hmm?”

Claude has half a mind to just thrust into her, but he knows Byleth would then have half a mind to just straight up kill him.

Besides, Claude likes to think of himself as a good boy.

“P-Please.. Please, T-Teach, let me be inside y-you...”

Byleth hums and lets the tip of his cock rub against her pussy, but not allowing him entry. Claude whimpers like she’s driving nails into the tips of his fingers.

“Please, please, please, please, plea — _!_” Claude isn’t able to finish his pleas as he’s cut off but his own sudden yelp.

Byleth swiftly impales herself onto his cock and begins to grind into him. She scratches at his chest and leaves long, thin red lines across his abdomen. The feeling is exquisite. She’s so strong, stronger than he could ever possibly be; having the power of a literal goddess inside her. He wants nothing more than to feel helpless in her arms. And he does feel utterly helpless. He can do nothing as Byleth slows down her space to a torturous speed except whine about it. She clenches around him before lifting herself completely off him and Claude can feel tears in the corner of his eyes. He hears a soft snicker before feeling the sensation of her taking his length again. He doesn't bother hiding the whimper that comes out of him. Byleth kisses him deeply then, a heavy, claiming kiss, something that lets him know his place. When she withdraws she bites his lower lip. Hard. She lets him go and continues with her teasing pace.

Sometimes she’s slow, sometimes she’s fast, everytime she makes sure to let Claude know who’s in charge by raking her nails across his chest and occasionally flicking his nipples.

“Y-You feel so fucking good Byleth” — he stops with the petnames when he’s close to finishing — “Please.. L-let me touch you..!!”

She nods her consent and his hands begin to roam over her body. His hands grasp at her supple breasts and stay there, they were always his favourite place to touch on her body.

He grips them slightly tighter before letting his hands fall to side when Byleth bends down and grabs his throat. Whenever she rides him like this she always grabs hold of his neck before she's about to cum. She doesn't hold him down hard enough to choke him, but exerts enough strength to keep him immobile, as if to say _mine, mine, mine._

Byleth comes with a low hiss and only a twitch in her expression, Claude comes with a whittled cry and screws his eyes shut in reflex.

They stay there for a while, slicked with sweat and panting. When Claude has enough strength he wraps his arms around Byleth and peppers her cheek with kisses.

"That… was amazing." He sounds more exhausted than he feels. He makes a mental note to drink some water later.

Byleth lifts herself up to remove Claude's length from her. He licks his lips and he watches her stick two fingers inside herself.

"Good boys get rewarded." She takes her fingers out and now they're covered in their combined fluids. Claude suddenly feels sticky, Byleth seems nonplussed by it.

She places her fingers right above his mouth, expectant. He meets her expectations by curling his lips around her digits and sucking obediently, the way he knows she likes it. The way she taught him. He can feel her fingers reach the back of his throat and he gags ever so slightly.

She withdraws her fingers from his mouth and sighed contently as she lays next to him. They lay there together for a while, happy in each other’s arms, in a room where Claude doesn’t even know if they’ve locked the door.

He nuzzles her neck, breathing her in. “I’m looking forward to a warm bath when we get home, By.” He murmurs. "I hope you brought clean change of clothes for me."

Byleth hums in agreement and says, “I did. But n we're not leaving before we finish the signings and bid everyone goodbye.”

Claude stirs a bit. “Does… that mean I’m gonna have to sit down?” He likes pain — that much is obvious considering their sex lives — but the thought having to sit down on his sore ass and thighs while doing politics makes him uncharacteristically nervous.

She snickers. “No, no you won’t. Relax.” She traces a finger down one of the multiple scratches bared across his chest. The movement makes him shiver. “You wanted a caning so badly and yet you’re nervous about dealing with the aftermath of your punishment?”

Claude blinks. Once. Twice. He turns his whole body to face her.

“Yeah, how did you know I wanted it anyway?”

Byleth smiles widely, baring her sharp teeth. Her eyes have a dangerous glint to them now. Her expression reminds Claude of a cat that’s playing with its prey. He feels another shiver throughout his body.

“You’re a very easy man to read, Claude von Riegen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Claude is a sub and a sub only or so help me god
> 
> Special thanks to my sister for beta-ing and giving me suggestions. :))) So if you see anything wrong it's her fault lmao.
> 
> This was the first time I wrote a fanfic and I'm sure it shows but regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! ♡


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